


Hm 







COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



POEMS 

i 

BESSIE Q. JORDAN 




ARTIetVPRITAfTy 



RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
BOSTON 



Copyright 1913 by Bessie Q. Jordan 
All Rights Reserved 






\V 



3 



? Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 



©CI.A347320 
1 ' I ■ 



CONTENTS 

The Childless Woman 9 

Anticipation 10 

Moonlight 10 

Eloquence 11 

Fog 12 

Christmas Past 13 

Evolved 14 

"Earth has no Forever" 15 

Influence 16 

How Oft 17 

Snow 17 

Unexpressed 18 

Sunrise 18 

A Word 19 

Twilight 20 

Shakespeare 20 

Tombs in Westminster Abbey 21 

April 21 

At the End 22 

In the Woods 23 

One of All 24 

A Summer Noon 25 

Brotherhood 25 

Thus He Comes 26 

Ability 27 

Morning — Evening 28 

Causes 29 

In Autumn 30 

Autumn 30 

A Rose 31 

The Nation's Plea 32 

Lillie's Pussy 33 

In a Library 34 

A Precious Thought 35 

3 



CONTENTS 

May 36 

Why? 37 

A New Year 38 

Light 38 

The Boon of Sorrow 39 

The Slanderer 40 

"The Land o' the Leal" 41 

Life's Interpretation 42 

"Thou Shalt Not" 43 

The Best 44 

Man his own Ideal 45 

"In the Beginning — God" 46 

Memory 48 

Doubt Not. 49 

Hidden Memories 50 

We Cannot 51 

Beside the Grate 52 

Toward the Close of the Year 53 

The Measures of Life 54 

Advice 55 

"He is Not Here" 56 

A Foggy Morning 57 

Justice 58 

Christmas Types 59 

Victors 60 

November 62 

Switzerland 63 

The Poet and His Wife 64 

Spiritual Riches 65 

Ambition 66 

Detached 67 

Compensation 68 

Life 69 

Futurity 71 

Winter Twilight 72 

4 



CONTENTS 

Word-Ministry 73 

June 74 

The Sunset. 75 

Creedless Service 76 

After a Snowy Day 77 

Memorial Day 77 

Mystery 78 

Another Year 79 

Sunrise 80 

Sorrow 81 

Divinity 82 

Ministry 83 

The Silent Side 84 

Decoration Day 85 

Substantial Fancies 86 

Perhaps 87 

St. Peter's 88 

"Christ, or Barabbas?" 89 

Snowflakes 90 

The Sphinx 91 

Dead Hearts 92 

Wait 93 

Love 94 

Friends 95 

Daybreak 96 

Reminded 97 

The Rainbow 98 

The Puritans 99 

Unvoiced 100 

Life's Story 101 

Ruins 102 

Rome 103 

Silent Music 104 

To a Butterfly 106 

Through the "Trossachs" 107 

5 



CONTENTS 

God's Servants 109 

"Not Bread Alone" 110 

Flowers Ill 

'Twixt Dark and Dawn 112 

The Christ-mass 113 

"The Fullness Thereof" 114 

We Thank Thee, Lord 115 

Harmony 116 

At Sunset 117 

Thaw 117 

Passing Moments 118 

Midsummer 119 

At Twilight 119 

Kindness 120 

Cradle Song 120 

Sinful Pleasures 121 

Evening 122 

Under 123 

Early Spring 124 

Early Fall 124 

The "To Come" 125 

Mother 127 

Time 128 



POEMS 



THE CHILDLESS WOMAN 

There is one spot unoccupied, 
And fenced from all apart, 

For Love hath built, for one denied 
A cradle in my heart ! 

There is a form forever near 
None others' eyes may see; 

And one sweet voice none others hear 
Is always calling me! 

My empty arms one burden bear, 
For which there is no room 

In those so filled with toil and care 
For children in the home! 

For countless blessings, rich and rife, 

My gratitude I bring, — 
But all the music in my life 

Retains one silent string! 



ANTICIPATION 

There's a look like a child's, on an age- withered 
face, 

Like a child's with its heart all a-thrill, 
As it hangs by the shelf, in the Time-honored 
place, 

Its small stocking for Santa to fill, 
And that look glancing out of an aged one's eyes, 

Who has hung empty hopes on Earth's wall, 
Is of ignorant heart-bliss which waits a surprise 

When the Morning shall break for us all! 



MOONLIGHT 

The black dome of Night is fretted with stars; 

The wind's soft pinions are heard as in flight; 
Earth seems a vast sea, wherein shadow-spars 

Are grasped by wrecked creatures, tossing in 
light. 



ELOQUENCE 

A mighty mind seeks vainly to express, 
Until Imagination broods o'er words, 

And, with the vital warmth of tenderness, 

Doth hatch from Reason's eggs bright-plu- 
maged birds. 

Forth of the heart, through Feeling most intense, 
Come words nude, but of Nature's purity, 

And that alone, methinks, is eloquence 
Which doth appear thus unselfconsciously. 

The homely, love-warm word of cheer or praise 
To hungry, struggling lives, must e'er eclipse 

Indiff'rence, though coffined in finest phrase, 
For 'tis the Bible — clasped with human lips! 



11 



FOG 

Grey ghost of the Ocean, or specter of Space, 

Thou dost fling thy damp shroud o'er our eyes, 
And, by taking the Earth in thy clammy embrace, 

Interceptest her glance towr'd the skies. 
Grim monster ! which no hand may touch to re- 
tain, 

Though we seem near each other to be; — 
A lantern close-shuttered the Sun hands the Rain 

When compelled by thy presence to flee. 

Surrounded by heights of unscalable mist, 

Which our bodies pass easily through, — 
But only that we may be promptly abyssed 

In a fathomless cavern of dew! 
Alone, quite alone, 'mid a hoarse-throated throng, 

And of objects familiar made strange, 
Unseen and unseeing we wander along, 

Hapless pris'ners of uniformed Change! 

We seem to be treading the floor of a sea 

Strewn with wreckage of substances, all, 
Which we gropingly touch, but, so blinded are we, 

Ev'ry step seems to threaten our fall ! 
Is't the ghost of that Flood of long ages ago, 

Haunting thus the whole Earth that it drowned ? 
And, in lieu of the dove, shall the beautiful bow 

Bring assurance of visible ground? 



CHRISTMAS PAST 

Once, for their mysterious filling, 

We our empty stockings brought, 
And warm hands, — so gladly willing --■ 

All we dreamed, to being wrought, 
Now, tonight, our hearts are lonely, 

And in anguish vainly cry 
For those vanished forms who, only 

Can their emptiness supply! 

Oh, dear Lord! our patient Father, 
Thou will not our weeping chide, 

That the days we used to gather 
All at home, at Christmastide, 
We remember? — That e'en nearei 
Than our joy our sorrow seems? 

For through tears see we not clearer 
Heaven's Real for Earthly Dreams? 

There we all — again united — 
Shall to Thee our praises pay, 

For the joys of Heaven, plighted 

To earth's hopes on Christmas Day! 



13 



EVOLVED 

The evolution of a Deed is this; — 

First, dormant in the power of a man, 
It crawleth thence (with clinging chrysalis) 

Unto his thought, and there becomes a Plan, 
Which, perfect in all its members, doth spring — 

A living creature — to our sight, 'mid cheers 
Which challenge universal copying, 

And thus, in diff'rent forms, the Same appears. 



14 



"EARTH HAS NO FOREVER" 

Or sweet success, or dire defeat 

Attend sincere endeavor, 
Thej' each to us the truth repeat — 

"This earth has no forever." 

Or if by Joy's or Sorrow's cup 

Our hearts are set a-quiver, 
We taste of each the final drop, 
For "earth has no forever." 

Ah, no forever, e'en the night, 

Whose hours are anguish-freighted, 

Must pass to bring the morning light, 
So longingly awaited! 

Though Change may scatter all our plans, 

And though our courage waver, 
Thus chant the winds of Circumstance, — 
"This earth has no forever!" 

'Tis good to know, 'mid bliss or pain, 

'Mid Hope's consuming fever, 
And when Despair clasps heart and brain, 

That "earth has no forever!" 

And though the chilly hand of Death 
Love-wedded lives may sever, 

Hearts bolder tread Earth's broken path 
Knowing 'tis not forever! 

But, best of all, — we thank thee, Lord, 
That Earth and Death can never 

Blot from Faith's sight thy precious word 
Which offers Heav'n's forever! 



15 



INFLUENCE 

The spirit of a hidden flow'r; 

The ambushed serpent's fetid breath; 
The strength which overpowers pow'r, 

And gives at will — or life, or death. 

Hindered, 'tis like a fresh-blown bud, 

Upon a rudely broken stem; 
A battle-ground unmarked with blood; 

A king, who doffs his diadem. 

Her dwelling is the tenseless Life; 

Her tools, — The silence of the deeps; 
The statued soldier of a strife; 

The face of childhood, as it sleeps, — 

Or Change, or gray Monotony, 

Or Feeling which hath tongued the heart; 
Hope or Despair or Memory; — 

She gives to each its self-earned part. 

The influence of sacrifice 

Doth reach away beyond our ken, 
As smoke from burning flesh doth rise 

Unholden by the will of men. 

Though sweet, social communions be, 
And varied viands the supply, 

Influence enters stealthily, 
The food to curse or sanctify. 



16 



HOW OFT 

How oft we speak to interrupt the Silences, 

And hand seeketh to hand lest Feeling come 
too close! 
How sternly measure we all surface distances 
When shapeless Space between our hearts the 
wider grows! 

How oft by frank confession aid we Truth to hide, 
And, furnishing too many, leave no signal trace ! 

How oft, by flinging all its other doors awide, 
We close the one unto our soul's most secret 
place ! 

How oft we fix our gaze on Life's thin masks, that 
so 
We may not see the faces which are wearing 
them! 
How constantly we think, lest we shall come to 
know; — 
List laughter, lest we hear Hope's sound less 
requiem ! 



SNOW 

Like marble-chips the stinging snowflakes swiftly 
fall, 
As if some busy sculptor, back of curtained 
skies, 
Were fashioning for Earth's denuded cathedral, 
The statued presence of a Life that never dies. 



17 



UNEXPRESSED 

I felt the stirring of a Thought within 

My soul, and deftly placed the ready brain — 
An empty cradle — to receive it, when, 

Full-formed, it should be freed from primal 
pain. 
And, for the body-covered life, I quick 

Did seize a pen, a rare word-dress, to shape, 
To clothe it, 'ere the spirit should escape 

The fragile frame. But what fantastic trick 
Is this? — I read, — yes, fully 'tis arrayed, 

But in the shapeless shroud my hands have 
made! 



SUNRISE 

Another pilgrim from Creation's Orient 

Comes with scented treasure-gifts in his golden 
box, 

With color-sandaled feet, he maketh swift descent, 
And, closely following, are all his fleecy flock? 



18 



A WORD 

Born of the spirit of Feeling, 

And of intangible Thought, 
Mysterious is thy dealing 

With what our motives have wrought! 

Servant of every Meaning; — 

Whether thou voicest a tear, 
Or when some joy desires screening, 

Thou shapest its mask to wear. 

Strange offspring of Thought and Feeling; 

The slave and the master of Fate; — 
Love sends thee to minister healing, 

Or thou comest to wound, from Hate. 

Child of innermost Thought and Feeling, — 
Thy parents too often unknown, 

Because thou comest concealing 

Those features which mark thee their own ! 

Orphan of Thought and Feeling, 

Adopted by Selfishness, 
Thy presence is ever revealing 

What thou would'st have it suppress! 

Father of sequences lasting, 

Thou can'st not thy children recall; 

Forth they go blessing or blasting, 
Wherever their footsteps fall ! 



19 



TWILIGHT 

The Queen of Night and King of Day 

Announced their bridal feast; 
The Queen appeared in gown of gray, 

Before the pale-faced Priest; — 
The Bang, in gorgeous robes arrayed, 

Stepped from his golden throne, 
And Earth grew still as they were made 

Indissolubly one. 



SHAKESPEARE 

O thou, whose brain circumferenced all time, 
And touched each moment with a thought 
sublime, — 

Thy heart, the mirror of Humanity, 

Is where each one himself may clearly see ! 



TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

The dust of which Immortal Man is made, 

Of Reason's vacant thrones, — their ashes here; 
Of Feeling's silent music halls, decayed 

Within these Time-dug trenches; (Rusty spear 
And faded olive-branch long hidden hands 

Survive, to greet our earthly human sight!) 
And feet, whose tracks lie deep in Hist'ry's sands, 

Are atoms of this Man cosmopolite. 



APRIL 

Fickle April, who her whole heart denies 
To suitors both — the gloomy and the gay, 

Encouraged by Earth's half -averted eyes — 
Constant but in inconstancy — doth play 

With their devotion as with worthless toy, 
And strange ! this her attraction and their joy ! 



21 



AT THE END 

When all the days, and all the years 

Are volumedly complete, 
And Mem'ry reads with smiles and tears 

The record on each sheet, 
Will not the tale of what has been 

Seem diff'rent at life's close, 
Than when poor earth-sight made a screen, 

To hide what Death now shows? 

Will Justice not interpret then, 

Things once misunderstood, 
And prove those things which caused us 
pain, 

Perverted by our mood? 
And that the guiding heart was kind, 

Though awkward hands lost trace? 
Will life not, from all masks behind, 

Then lift a holy Face? 



22 



IN THE WOODS 

Secluded in a sylvan vale, 
Where I the subtle scents inhale 

Of sun-steeped barks and list 
The insects thrum their tiny lyres; 
The bird-songs from high, hidden choirs, 
And croak of frogs in distant mires — 

Hoarse voice of the mist! — 

Where massive trees, like shade-gowned 

priests 
Do minister perpetual feasts 

To body, heart and brain, 
Here oft with Memory I stray, 
To dream that the dead Yesterday, — 
All its "has beens" still pliant clay — 

Is come to life again! 



23 



ONE OF ALL 

We all commence; we cannot take up life 

Where others lay it down — where slowed and 
stopped 
Some heart 'mid all the circling, rushing strife, — 
But we can lift the work which they have 
dropped 
From stiffened hands, and to completion bring 
The grand design they with their moments 
weaved, 
Our threads may join with theirs, and fashioning 
By the one plan, their thought may be achieved 
By our live deeds. God's hand the threads doth 
reach 
To each of us, and He all doing fits. — 
Tis but one Work, and this doth also teach 

That Life is one, though broken into bits. 
We all commence, but unity exists; — 
The All is one, and Each is one of all 
In Life per se, now hid by earthly mists; — 

One perfect chain to God doth all the links 
enthrall. 



24 



A SUMMER NOON 

With sharp and shining blade, the King of Day 
Stood whittling shadows o'er Earth's em 'raid 
wall; 
Just where they fell the sable shavings lay, 

'Till some soft breeze brushed by and stirred 
them all! 



BROTHERHOOD 

Let Love the meaning 'neath the word declare 
By showing that mankind is man-kinned, ev'ry- 
where ! 



25 



THUS HE COMES 

Such little bodies Christ requires 
To mingle with the lives of men; — 

He hides within all good desires, 

And, in their granting, comes again! 

Somtimes our gaze is upward bent, 
As if we there His steps must trace, 

When, lo, He cometh from a tent 
Erected by the commonplace! 

He bodies in the praiseful word, 
And in the little loving deed, 

Which comfort doth some heart afford ;- 
Some help in time of voiceless need. 

Oh let us but the Savior see 

In ev'rybody — ev'rything, 
Then Earth and all Humanity 

Shall unto us His presence bring! 

And let us body Him to all — 

In all we be and do and say, 
For only thus it is we shall 

Keep Jesus in our midst, alway. 

By small heart-hungers sacrificed — 
On altars which their victims hide — 

Is brought to human faith, the Christ, 
In forms which cannot be denied. 

The World is groping through a Night 
Obscuring all the paths to Heav'n, 

And cries to God for touch and sight, 
Which only can through us be giv'n! 



26 



No body is for Him too small 

Again on earth to occupy; — 
The Babe of Bethlehem held all 

The Presence, here, of the Most High! 



ABILITY 

Ability doth often sleep 
To wakened be, by praise, 

And then, perhaps, 'twill overleap 
All obstacles we raise! 

No man his own ability 
E'er wholly comprehends 

Until, in some emergency, 
All on his strength depends. 

Perhaps we feel a strength beyond 
That by our deeds expressed? 

Be sure it waiteth to respond 
To some oncoming test! 

Respons-ability is this: — 

Ability to give 
Response of all that in us is, 

To need, while we shall live! 



27 



MORNING— EVENING 

I saw the Sun, like some gigantic smith, 

Plate all the hill-tops and the trees with gold; 

He tossed aside his coat of many colors with 
Such force, that, tumblingly, it rolled — and — 
rolled ! 

The flowers ran to pick it up; each one 
Secured a fragment for himself to wear, 

Until it should be needed by the weary Sun — 
But lo ! He lifts a new one from the air! 



CAUSES 

There is no absence but a failing love, 

Nor distance, save that made by wand'ring 
thought; 

And bridges built two lives between but prove 
Necessity hath been the one who wrought. 

There is no presence with the heart afar, 

Nor nearness but the heart which understands; 

Beneath all moods which on the surface are 
Love holds two lives as one in priestly hands. 

There is no blindness save a loss unknown — 
Because possession was unrealized; 

No heart can tread Earth's God -paved paths 
alone, 
Except it has some fellowship despised. 

There are no silences, save when a word 

Against the heart hath laid its stilling sound; 

There is no sickness save of hope deferred, 

Nor death but from Despair's untended wound ! 



IN AUTUMN 

How strange it seems, in Life's cool autumn days, 

To visit once again the altar where 

Youth's dreams were burned, as cruelly Despair 

His torch applied before our frenzied gaze! 

How strange the touch, as we the ashes raise 

In gloveless hands, and with caressing care 

Sift them back to their mem'ry-measured place ! 

How tenderly the heart its off'ring lays 

Upon the scorch-stained stone — its offering 

Of gathered tears! How it lives o'er that scene 

In each small detail, as 'neath brassy skies, 

It sees the fire spread wide its smoky wing, 

To bear beyond all reach what might have been 

Had dreams escaped the glance of waking eyes! 



AUTUMN 

Clang! clang! clang! Loudly ring Fall's windy 
bells— 

The Year's afire ! Aflame the woods and dells 
On Summer's summit, where the fire-storm broke, 

Are gardens smoldering in tinted smoke ! 

Nature doth fight the surface fire in vain — 
Yet all the Year's best treasures hidden are 

In little vaults, which Earth shall ope again 
When Autumn's heirs arrive from days afar. 

But listen! Hear we not the rush of rain 
As Heaven starts its engine from the clouds; 

Nor yet Nature, aweary, sob with pain 

As bands of white her shrivelled face enshrouds? 



30 



AROSE 

Where doth the rose's life begin — 

Not in the tiny seed, 
This hideth life itself within, 

Some life doth hither lead! 

And doth the little seedling die, 

Or changeth Life his dress 
To thus his former self deny 

In words the roots express? 

Where are the brown-masked colors hid — 
Those rainbow-flakes, which feed 

Each flower-growth the Lord doth bid 
Come forth of pris'ning seed? 

If Hea'vn so feed the flow'rs which grow, 

Of Earthly mother born, 
What fath'ring life hath built below 

The stall where feeds the thorn? 

Sweet flower! thou but comest armed 

W T ith weapon God selects, 
And, that thou mayest bless unharmed, 

The thorn thy life protects! 



THE NATION'S PLEA 

We want a man who trusts in God; 

A man whom God may, likewise, trust; 
Let Right be the divining rod 

Which finds for us one boldly just! 

Unholden of a party name; 

Unfettered by a selfish claim, — 
Let Principle the victor be, 

So shall our land be truly free! 



32 



LILLIE'S PUSSY 

I have dot a little pussy, 

An' she's all my own — to teepi 
But she is so drefful fussy 

When we're playin' hide'n seek! 
I will hide w-a-y in the tloset, 

An' will squeam, wight loud, "All out!" 
An' when pussy hears me doesit, 

She begins to wun about. 

She tan ony say "me-ow," 

But I know des what her finks — 
Her finks, "ah, I've found oo now," 

An' den, away she slinks! 
Den I has to do an' fin' her — 

On the 'tairway; in the hall, — 
But I wis' her wouldn't tinder 

Always wun out, when I tall! 

Seems to me I'm always "it," — 

The one what has to shut her eyes; 
An' I don't wike that one bit, 

For my pussy never tries 
'All out!" like her ought to do, 

An' I always have to dess 
'Bout the time her wants me ^o — 

That ain't wight, now, I mus' 'fess! 

But den it's no fun to hunt her — 

I wis' 'at I tould teach her how! 
Will her ever learn, I wonder, 

To say "all out!" an' not "me-ow!" 
She is such a funny kitty, 

Not to tell me where she be; — 
An' I fink it's such a pity 

Pussies tannot play like we! 
33 



IN A LIBRARY 

Embalmed herein the thoughts of sages, 
Retain their bodies down the ages; 

And hither we may come, 
And choosing from these wondrous pages, 
May list the one our wish engages, 

Through lips Death cannot dumb. 

There is a scent which overpowers 
Exhaling from the long-dead hours, — 

Here ravished from their tomb ! 
Or as if strangely mingled flowers — 
Plucked from the Past's o'erhanging bowers,- 

Were vased within this room! 



34 



A PRECIOUS THOUGHT 

I have a thought but cannot give it speech; 

'Tis like material with which to make 
An instrument of song, and, though I reach 

The meaning buried there, I cannot break 
Its attitude of silence with a word, 
And so it lies — unspoken and unheard. 

'Tis like a flower growing in the gloom, 
Which eagerly I search but cannot find; — 

But I may freely breathe the sweet perfume, 
And let its fragrance penetrate my mind; — 

It may be but the promise of a thought 

By some inviting white-winged angel brought, 

Lest I be too content with lower things, 
And I, in groping for expression, may 

Unconsciously be spreading out my wings 
For flight unto yon Heaven's mount, away. 

For back of all Earth's longings, doth appear 

The Satisfactions thus reflected here. 



35 



MAY 

May, gladsome May, with flower-shod feet, 

Comes dancing o'er earth's spacious em'rald 
floor, 
And 'round her brow the golden sunbeams meet, 

To crown her with a halo, as of yore ! 
Her merry laugh is heard through all the halls 

Of Earth, her song is echoed in the woods; 
Her presence all of Nature's joy, recalls; — 

The year is in its very best of moods ! 
And we, delighted with our winsome guest, 

Would fain employ some means to guile her 
stay; 
She gives to life itself an added zest, 

And Time on angel's wings doth flee away! 



36 



WHY? 

Why do we hold our best word back, 

And voice the commonplace? 
Why do our deeds the beauty lack 

Of the fair motive's face? 

We judge by surface acts of men, 

Nor explanation ask; 
Oh, why so judge of others, when 

Our own lives wear a mask? 

Why do our lips refuse to speak, 

When overflows the soul; 
Is it because they are too weak 

When Feeling has control? 

Why do our hearts so dumbly ache 

Beneath a smiling face; 
Why goes life boldly to the stake 

With never slackened pace? 

Why do our falling tears reflect, 
None of the heart-blood's hue; 

Why are the rocks where hopes are wrecked 
Hidden from surface view? 

I know not why, — but this I know, 
Through earth with visor down, 

Humanity will ever go 

Unknowing and unknown! 



A NEW YEAR 

Unto Eternity another child is born; 
We bend above its cradle on this morn, 
And take the tiny hand, to lead it whence 
We will, for we must guide its footsteps hence; 

And, as we hear the echo of its feet 
Close by our side, oh, let the trustful heart 
Be never led from paths of Right apart! 
And may we not at death of this New Year 
Drop on its grave one single bitter tear, 

Nor fear to meet it at the Judgment Seat! 

LIGHT 

First-born of God, whose whiteness hath been 
tried 
In sev'n-fold fires; hidden in which thy God 
Hath ever walked (in sign) close by thy side; 
Not one seared spot bears Earth where thou 
hast trod; 
Nor smell of smoke upon thy garments found; 
But all the cords which Earth to Darkness 
bound, 
Are, by thy hands, miraculous, unwound! 



38 



THE BOON OF SORROW 

Sorrow? It is the shadow cast by the bright wing 
of Joy! 
Here souls may rest in quietness from Life's 
strong heat; 
Here shed in peace, relieving tears, none to annoy, 
Or to disturb in such secluded, safe retreat. 

Sometimes, if but for sake of rest, we welcome 
thee 
Oh, Grief! thy touch is kind, — though black- 
glov'd be the hand — 
Which beckons us from noisv scenes, that we may 
be 
A moment, where we Life may better under- 
stand, — 

And feel the living heart still beating 'neath the 
sham, — 

The pretense of Earth's ev'ry empty mockery ! 
Yes, time to think; to feel; and realize how tame 

Our wildest hope's fruition is! We joy to be 

By thee inspired to noble thoughts, and lofty 
deeds 
Which write, indelibly, upon the passing years 
A tale which makes the stronger, better him who 
reads, 
E'en though 'tis written with our own heart's 
crimson tears! 



39 



THE SLANDERER 

The serpent nesteth in his deeds; 

It hisseth in his subtle voice; 
His glance is that of gruesome greeds, 

So like a snake's, when it employs 
Stilled eyes to snare a child who feeds! 

A stench exhales from ev'ry word, 
From out his hate-enfevered thought; 

And, as a serpent when 'tis stirred 

Leaves sulph'rous trail its crawl hath 
wrought, 

So he, on life-paths trod unheard ! 

Outwardly fair, yet naught can cloak 

His inner nature poisonous; 
Nor aught man's tolerance provoke 

For one, whose whole self, venomous, 
Is like a snake — coiled for a stroke ! 



40 



"THE LAND O' THE LEAL" 

The map of that real, invisible world 
Is drawn on our hearts, and no foreigner 

Unto its soft winds his flag has unfurled, 
Or for its speech found an interpreter. 

'Tis there hearts embrace in rapture sublime, 
Whose dwellings are lighted (in olden style!) 

By love-shining eyes, while, from time to time, 
Its hearth-fires are fed from Memory's pile. 

How foot-scarred the path to its crystal wells, 
Where Sympathy fills Life's need-hollowed cup ! 

How prompt the response when Joy rings her 
bells, 
Bidding neighbors all: "Come hither and sup!" 

Beneath God's husbandry, meanings exhale 
From every pore of that hallowed ground, 

But Silence, methinks, must utter their tale 
With the tongue which Feeling for her hath 
found. 

'Tis "the land o' the leal," the true and strong; 

Whose inhabitants never move away; 
W T here lives walk unmasked their neighbors 
among, 

Clad in mail Time's rust can never decay. 

There dwelleth my heart, in its native land, 
And the visible world oft seemeth strange, — 

For its language is hard to understand, 

And its people e'er with its changes, change! 



41 



LIFEV INTERPRETATION 

Alas, a dreary world it is, 

Where Life groans 'neath the wheels of Sorrow; 
Today, a path of mysteries 

Through which we pass to the Tomorrow! 
Monotonous it is, to thus 

Go on, yet never reach an ending; 
Can anyone explain to us 

Whither this strange earth-life is tending? 

A cheerless world, where hopes must grow 

On tender vines — so easy broken! 
But has it not, in whispers low, 

To us of future bliss oft spoken? 
And made us feel that the grand Real 

Must be, or Dreams had no existence; — 
And, though the mists of time conceal, 

Earth's life shown Heaven in the distance? 

The restless wings of Discontent 

Are but outspread to lift us higher; 
And Joy's bright life must soon be spent, 

To bring unto conscious grief, Desire ! 
The hand of Pain were raised in vain 

If it set not our hearts to crying 
And heaven's light will quite explain 

The meaning of Earth's life, so trying! 

Ah, yes — thank God! there's Life beyond; • 

The Real has wakened up the Seeming; 
Shade but to Substance can respond, 

And Heav'n will end Earth's restless dreaming! 
Can Thought soar high'r, or Hope aspire 

Above God's thought or wish of giving? 
Nay, spirits never can desire 

Beyond their measure for receiving! 
42 



"THOU SHALT NOT" 

Who hides 'neath silent lips one helpful word; 

Who folds his hands when cries for aid are heard; 
W 7 ho steels his heart before a brother's woe, 
Withholding sympathy he might bestow; 

W T ho rests content with his own plenteous store, 

Deaf to the voice of want outside his door, 
In God's pure sight a thief becomes, for he 
Holds back from all Life's blessed ministry. 

Who, by a word, hope in some heart has slain; 
Who by his act occasions needless pain; 

Who with contemptuous manner dares to deal 

A blow to aspirations, grand and real, 
Who wilily doth seek to entice all 
The best in any life unto its fall, — 

By bringing thus to naught those things which 
were, 

He of the best in man is murderer. 

The one great sin is merely holding back 
From other lives, what would supply their lack; 
The other takes what other lives possess 
To be consumed of its own greediness, — 
Ah, yes, and not content with this vile deed, 
Doth make the heart of things bereft to bleed, 
Itself away, — for with weapons unseen 
It takes the life of things which would have been ! 



43 



THE BEST 

Sweeter the song than the words express; 

Deeper the music than the keys; 
Nobler the fight, though 'tis triumphless, 

Than is a never challenged ease. 
Better the tryings than results; 

Higher the heights by reaching gained 
All life is mightier than its pulse; 

Than the explanation is the explained. 

More exhales the flow'r than its scent makes 
known; 

Richer its meanings than its tints; 
The growing is not unmasked in the grown, 

And its form of the Moulding Hand but hints. 
Better the giving than the gift, 

And the better doing hides in deeds; 
Better are clouds the sun to rift 

Than light which blinds us to our needs. 

Better the weakness that grasps God, 

Than trusted self-sufficiency; 
Better, though thornier, the road, 

If Faith, not Reason, leader be. 
Better are empty hands, outspread 

To take the gifts which Love supplies, 
Than hands too full to hold a need 

For that, alone, which satisfies. 



44 



MAN HIS OWN IDEAL 

'Tis "as a man thinketh so is he;" 
His thought cannot reach himself beyond; 
Else would his thought the Creator be 
Of things which its own capacity 
Was not the measure to correspond! 

'Tis thus that what I most love exists; 
If not within the body I see, 
Still Longing persistently insists 
That it its full satisfaction wists 
Hid in the fact that itself doth be! 

An artist turned from his picture rare, 
And bitterly wept as he it surveyed, 
I asked, as I heard him sobbing, there, 
What was the cause of the deep despair 
Which his emotion thus betrayed? 

"Alas!" cried he, "'tis my masterpiece; 
Beyond that picture I cannot go!" 
At once I bade his mourning cease, 
By showing him, thus, its causelessness : — 

"That there is beyond, 'tis yours to show!" 



45 



"IN THE BEGINNING— GOD" 

A spirit laid aside its flesh one day, 

And sped on the wings of Thought, away; 

His quest was for the beginning of Things; 

For Substances veiled by Earth's Shadowings. 
His first wond'ring look was cast athwart 
Life's Time-chainless person, in the resort 

Of primeval Chaos, — a shapeless mass 

Over which was no bridge for him to pass. 

A sharp shaft of Light from an unseen Source, 
Split the gloom with irresistible force, 

Still naught was there here his tired eyes to 
rest, 

Nor strength had he to obey Will's behest. 
Suspended in Space, unguided — alone! 
A stranger in 'midst of Pow'rs unshown! 

He felt subtle touches, but saw no trace 

Of the touchers, or of their dwelling place ! 

Then, as in dreams, before his strained eyes, 
Facts most familiar began to arise 

From secret abodes, — all hidden from view. 

Then cried he aloud: "I see nothing new, 
But whence came they all ? 'tis that I would find — 
Not things that I see, but what lies behind!" 

Preceded by Light, he sought for the Cause 

Back of man's being and of Earth's perfect 
laws. 

But, lo! again into darkness he fell, 
Where Chaos and Silence together dwell! 
And there the dazed spirit helplessly stood, 
Till he felt himself closed in the arms of — God! 
Face to face Creator and creature, then, 
Met and communed with no Thing between, 
God's love wore no mask wrought by Mystery, 
And this He offered, to His works the key. 
46 



Thus, after strugglings of Spirit and Mind, 
God's cipher on earthly tablets to find, 
We must inevitably — come to this, 
The Earth, its fulness and meanings, are His! 
He made the world, and the Creator knows 
What wonders it hides with wonders it shows; 
And all that we need for comfort below 
God's Nature-gloved hand will freely bestow. 

Science is great? God is Omni-science 
And there is no system which Man invents 
Can find secrets God in Himself conceals, 
Or can hide what He to the "meek" reveals! 
Then, Searchers! come back to the age-tested 

Book! 
In vain for Life's answers you otherwhere look. 
Come to God, through Christ, and you shall 

receive 
All knowledge herein your minds would 
achieve ! 



47 



MEMORY 

Life's untiring amanuensis, thou! 
Of all that has been, is and e'er shall be; 
Of all mankind has hoped for, had 'till now, 
Thou hast a perfect record, Memory, — 
Companion, thou, of God's Eternity! 
Pain cannot swerve thy hand, nor Dreams con- 
fuse; 
Nor hidden thought or plan thy pen can lose. 
Gleaner of facts ! cradling their naked forms 
Where naught that helps may reach them, — naught 

that harms! 
Thou writest on — however man ignores — 
And each one for himself must needs peruse 
Time's dying, dead, but never buried lores! 



48 



DOUBT NOT 

To look upon a pale and peaceful face, 

Whose lips have frozen e'er last thoughts were 
spoken ; 
To see sublime suggestions in the commonplace, — 
As on a blossomed branch the storm hath 
broken : — 
To see these and no more, — the weary brain 
Asks why such promises so rich, — so vain? 

Who careth for the silenced thought, and who 
For smitten bud on sapful stem now dying? 

Who hath left all these mysteries in view, 
Upon our daily path forever lying? 

Ah, God is to His purpose taking heed, 

Thy questions, all, must to life's Answer, lead! 

He taketh heed, and so He this permits, — 

He knows our eyes will yield to such attrac- 
tion — 

Earth's silences and brokenness He fits, 

Essential parts, to Heaven's satisfaction; — 

Then doubt no more; His love is always wise; 

His wisdom by no act that love denies! 

God's Thought is perfect and His Purpose whole, 
W r ithin all earthly signs of incompleteness — 

As was the worship of that pardoned soul 

W 7 hose broken box filled all the air with sweet- 
ness! 

Doubt not — God lives ! and He will show to Faith 

His steady footprints on Earth's fickle path! 



HIDDEN MEMORIES 

In that room of my heart, the center, 

Back of doors Love's key keepeth fast; 
In a chest which moths cannot enter, 

Are stored all the robes of the Past. 
Here are Youth's gay garments, Time faded, 

In the same old silences wrapped; 
And here the fine Fancies I braided, 

Which Hope with choice colorings capped. 

And here are the garments worn later, 

In that one brief Autumn I spent, 
Where all best joys seemed to cater 

To the whims which a thought could invent. 
But here — 'mid Love's lavender lying, — 

Are robes still unfaded, but torn; — 
As sacred as words of the dying, 

They are hidden 'till Life's Easter-morn! 



50 



WE CANNOT 

We cannot learn from seed, 

What sort of buds will bloom; 
Nor a life's story read 

From words upon a tomb; 
We cannot know by tears 

Which well has been their source ;- 
If Joy's which overcheers, — 

Or Grief's, cupped in remorse. 

W T e cannot tell by laughter, 

Whence proceeds the sound; 
Perhaps it follows after 

Despair's unhealing wound; 
It may be whole as childhood's, — 

Mirthless as withered years; 
Or the heart's voice in wild moods, 

Defying deadly fears ! 

We cannot judge by masks 

What features lie beneath; 
Nor doing dreary tasks 

What tyrant-swords we sheathe! 
We cannot know by aught 

Which on the surface floats, 
With what the stream is fraught, 

On which Life sails her boats ! 



51 



BESIDE THE GRATE 

The fire was out — or so I vaguely thought, 

As dreamily I stirred the ashes, gray, 

While lost in meditation of the day, 
And all the varied blessings it had brought. 
But, as I thoughtlessly still turned my hand, 
Its motion into life the embers fanned, 

And suddenly a gleaming little spark — 
Followed by many more — -leaped up to sight; 

Until the former, all-encircling dark, 
Seemed set with flashing rubies, bleeding light; — 

Or's though the eyes of the long-buried Past — 
All socketted in mem'ries, dusty-dim — 

With murdr'ous glint were on the Present, cast, 
Threat'ning relentlessly, some vengeance grim; 

And charred fingers, — fleshless at ev'ry joint, — 
Into the Future (screened by shrunken hours 

Alone, so near it seemed!) reached forth to 
point 
Where piled, were all the thorns of Hope's fresh 
flow'rs ! 

I thought me, ah, this a strong temptation is 
To lure my thought from present, — future, bliss! 

Yet could not readily the dread dismiss. 



I shuddered. Was't the coldness of the room, 
Or some strange chill which only touched my 
heart? 

Did the raked ashes prophecy a doom 

To which my hand would give the guiding start? 

Was I a victim, tirelessly pursued 

By hidden hate; by eyes Death-spectacled? 



52 



I never knew how long I sat to brood; — 
The starry sparks of Night, and those the ashes 
held 
Were, with my strangely melancholy mood, 
By Dawn's pale pinion, — raised o'er all — dis- 
pelled. 



TOWARD THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 

Autumn on Nature's fevered brow has laid 
Her cooling hands, to soothe her into sleep; 
And when o'er earth Night throws his sombre 

shade, 
With deep drawn sigh, remains her watch to keep. 
Nature, first tossing in delirium, 
At length sinks into quietest repose; 
And Death doth in the sudden silence come, 
To lay her body 'neath the Winter snows. 



53 



THE MEASURES OF LIFE 

Measure thy life ! and dost thou think, oh man, 
To circle life within such narrow span? 
Measure thy life by days, and years? Ah, no, 
When years are done thy life shall onward go. 

The years speed o'er our heads, they do not 

touch, 
How long we've lived is quickly told; how much 
We cannot tell. Who can measure the thought, 
The pain, the overpassing years have brought? 

Or, who may measure love or grief, — alas, 

We age while years would speak us young; the 

face, 
Unfurrowed by the hand of Time, be old 
In things of which the years have never told. 

We bow our heads, saluting thus the years; 
But oh, if we should measure life with tears; 
With heart-aches, or its throbs of joy, ah, then 
Youth oft o'erfills the "three score years, and 
ten!" 

Nay, Life cannot be measured with a clock, 
Or be inhaled by breaths; God would not mock 
His children thus; 'tis what we've felt and known 

and done 
W T hich form its measur'ng lines — and these alone! 

The body ages with the years, but Life 
Goes ever youthful on, 'mid all the strife, 
And care and hope and changing things below, — 
Nor aught of Earth can interrupt its flow. 



We live between the years; Thought pulses on 
When lips are mute; and heart-throbs, are alone 
The spirit's wings, beating its cage of clay — 
Longing to rise to Heaven's life, away! 



ADVICE 

The longer that I live, 

The stronger I believe, 
That 'tis more blessed this to give, 

Than 'tis to this receive! 



55 



"HE IS NOT HERE" 

'Come see where He lay;" 'tis the only spot 
In all the realm of the Here, and the There, 
That Christ the living Redeemer is not — 
The one vast void in His Everywhere ! 

We measure the size of this vacant tomb 
By the stature of the arisen One; 

And, by the light of His Presence, the gloom 
Of the place from which that Presence is gone ! 

But hearts cannot measure the emptiness 
Which holds for us all the spoils that He won ! 

Nor can Longing compass with loneliness 
Its authorized promise of reunion! 

We may measure the weapons of a strife, 
We may glimpse through the face the soul that 
it hides, 

But to measure the Grave which held all Life, — 
No line for this God in Nature provides ! 

And we cannot measure its Easter-side 
By the longest hope extending from earth, 

But by the heart's cry, "I am satisfied!" 
Heaven places against Time's totalled dearth ! 



56 



A FOGGY MORNING 

The Sun's bright eye is spectacled in mist; 
Fog-horns hoot; gray hands on their lips make 

strange 
The voices of familiar noise, and Change 
Holds ev'rything in soundless space, abyssed. 

Like spectres huge, dragging their dampened 

shrouds, 
Dim forms approach on silence-sandaled feet; 
Sepulchrally they one another greet, 
Then merge and vanish in terrestrial clouds. 



57 



JUSTICE 

When shall the mystic bands, by ages wound 

Of Partiality and Prejudice 

Be torn away from Justice' level eyes, 

So that she clearly — safely! see, unbound 

Each comer's face — however he be gown'd — 

And mete to him his needs' correct supplies? 

When all untouched by Slander's lies 

Her scales? Unshaken by Might's foot, the 

ground 
Whereon she stands, to weigh minutest shades 
Of difference? To try the Motive's weight 
The deed has brought? The feeling 'gainst its 

mask? 
When shall she tell the size of Joy as 't fades; — 
Of useless sacrifice to Love and Hate? 
Oh, when shall Justice see to do her task? 



Oh, Justice! Thou strong-armed iconoclast 
Of wrong ideals, misshapen standards, all; — 
Oh, measure thou the fragments, as they fall, 
Nor let one piece, of worth, aside be cast, 
Nor one preserved, Sham molded in the past; 
And show thou man's real greatness but as tall 
As Merit marks his height upon Life's wall! 
Let thy just eyes guard us while Life shall last; — 
Try our defeats against Temptation's darts, 
And our success by our opponent's might; 
By reached for heights measure our broken wings, 
Else shall Despair find dwelling in our hearts 
And kill the last live Hope — that parasite 
Which feeds upon its own imaginings! 



58 



CHRISTMAS TYPES 

In the preparation bustle 

Which this sacred season brings, 

Hear we not the gentle rustle 
Of the herald angel's wings? 

In the gifts which form His cradle, 
We may still the Christ-child see, — 

Though uncouth as Bethl'hem's stable 
Their outside appearance be. 

See we not the human mother 
In the e'er recurring sign? — 

Peaceful feelings tow'rd each other, 
Fathered by good-will divine? 

In the gladsome Christmas greeting, 

We may hear the blest refrain; 
Angel's through Man's lips repeating, 
"Peace on earth; good- will to men!" 

Love- warm gifts received, remind us 
Of that lonely, star-lit plain, 

For in acts of human kindness 
Christ is born in flesh, again! 

In the children's laughter, merry, 
Do they not the truth betray; — 

Jesus, — bodied in the very 

Toys received, — they see today? 



59 



VICTORS 

Not the blare of trumpets, or blazoned banners 

high, 
And not the cheer, of throngs who watch the 

victors by, 
Nor the heart-welcomings from home friends they 

receive 
Express the all of praise the nation has to give; 

For those men who have stood amid the wildest 

wars; 
Come from thence exhausted, their triumphs 

badged with scars, — 
And for those heroes who freed Victr'y as they 

fell, 
Must proud hearts ever ring Gratitude's muffled 

bell! 

Not to bursting cannon the hero yields his life, 
But unto stalwart Right, who wields the noiseless 

knife! 
And he who doffs the robe of praise — well earned — 

to cast 
Its warmth on weaker soul, exposed to Censure's 

blast; 

Whose fevered lips refuse some awful thirst to 
slake, 

And drinks salt tears instead, for some dear com- 
rade's sake, — 

Ah, these are deeds which Heav'n's historian 
records, 

The fruit of battles fought without the clash of 
swords ! 



60 



The history of war can ne'er be fully told; 

Its losses number more than names on lists en- 

roll'd; 
And not by men alone, all victories are wrought — 
In their homes' shaded fields are bloodless 

triumphs bought! 

In an humble cottage, apart from human gaze, 
A mother in her sorrow, for the wand'rer prays; 
Here too, the life-drops fall, without a sound to 

mark 
The truth that livest hopes are martyred in the 

dark! 

Ah, Life's curtained altars, which hide as sacrifice 
The best of human kind, from pride-perverted 

eyes! 
And those who sheathe in smiles the deadly cruel 

steel 
Of man's misunderstandings which, dailily, they 

feel! 

Oh royalty, which walks the paths of Earth, dis- 
guised; 

Giving to thankless men, those things most Heav- 
en-prized; — 

Who bridge the gap between the cradle, and the 
tomb 

With the rude cross, whereon to meet your final 
doom; — 

Who all the foes of good, go fearlessly to meet, 
And fight Temptation's powers, and never know 

defeat; 
Whose best Self Love-bribed Justice damns with 

silent tongue, — 
Methinks that ye have learned to sing the victor's 

song! 



NOVEMBER 

Nature has aged grown, her soft, white hair 
Falls in dishevelled heaps about her face, 
From which the careless smile is fled; nor trace 
Of youthful beauty now remains, save where 
The cold, destroying hand must fail to reach, 
For, underneath this stern exterior, 
Her heart beats warm; life far superior 
To outward form abides within. With speech — 
To which a trembling adds its charm — she stands 
In rigid grace, and summons us to come, — 
Not to hear her pronounce on earth, its doom, 
But, from her feeble and uplifted hands, 
Lets fall on us her blessing from on high, — 
Then sweetly smiles again, and thus doth die. 



62 



SWITZERLAND 

Here Heaven and earth clasp in closest embrace; 

Here Beauty makes canvas of measureless space 

Whereon her unfading pictures to trace! 

Here Joy is petrified at highest leap! 

Here Day by Night's couch her vigil doth keep! 

Switzerland! Nature's Doxology, 

Sung by the ages, continuously! 

Thy mountain-hands lift as priests, blessingly, 

And wreathed with glory are their furrowed 

scalps, 
By Eidelweiss, — ermine-clad daisies of the Alps! 



63 



THE POET AND HIS WIFE 

John was a poet, and, one day 
His wife came where he sat, to say, 

In accents low and mild: 
"John, dear, I wish to go to town; 
I feel so tired, and broken down — 

If you will keep the child?" 

John grumbled: "What! more medicine? 
You're getting silly, Madeline, — 

Beside, I wish to write; 
I have a poem in my mind, 
And think that you are quite unkind — 
"All right," said she, "all right!" 

He took the paper frowningly; 

She glanced toward him, patiently, 

Then moved close to his side: 

"What is the title, John?" asked she. 

He looked and, absent-mindedly, 

' * Self-sacrifice, ' ' replied ! 



SPIRITUAL RICHES 

Impov'rished souls, of Earth's best things pos- 
sessed; 

Whose only need it is that ye need naught ! 
And hearts whose restlessness is born of rest; 

And ye, whose hunger 'tis, ye hunger not! 

Know this : Earth's consolations e'er defy 
Possession of the riches Christ bestows ! 
Poor hands! Your idleness must satisfy — 
Tis all Earth has to furnish of repose ! 

And laughter which, unsponsored of the soul, 
Rings out sympathyless, think ye that ears — 

Grief -strained to hear — such laughter can console, 
More than a pictured stream the thirsty cheers? 

Nay, nay! Think not such laughter to compare 
With that which cradleth peace — incarnate 
peace, — 
Born of the union — priested by Faith's prayer — 
Between the soul and Christ's own righteous- 
ness. 

Ye all your consolation have received, 

Who know no wish for things of Heav'nly worth, 

Laugh on! By Satan and yourselves deceived, 
For Death's rude hand shall shortly check your 
mirth! 

Nor think to steal another's happiness 
And so increase your own; it may not be! 

'Tis only gained by sharing his distress; 
By losing of one's Self in ministry. 



65 



Starved lives! Whose fullness of this world's 
supplies 

Must fail to strengthen for the time of need, 
Oh why refuse the Bread which satisfies 

And longer on the husks of folly feed? 



AMBITION 

I crave no earthly height but Calvary; 

Nor earthly throne but an uplifted cross, 
Where all men may a loyal subject see 

Of Heaven's King, despite all earthly loss ! 

I crave no jewels prey of earthly price; 

I covet not earth's royal diadems; 
For me the covered crown of sacrifice 

Blood-gemmed, — God's roses bloomed on 
thorny stems. 

No scepter would I wield, save over those 

Whose needs creep hungrily life's gate within; 

Nor slaying sword would lift 'gainst any foes 
Save those which answer to the call of Sin ! 



DETACHED 

Time's luscious fruits have riped o'erlate 

For my heart to appreciate, 
And things I once craved, hungrily, 

Have tasteless since, become to me. 
Tasteless, not bitter, — glad am I, 

My heart, unfretted by delay 
Sees others' ever close supply, 

Nor mourns its own void Yesterday. 

I craved, so much, the boon of friends — 

For just one heart to understand; 
But now, when one his own extends, 

He clasps, perhaps, a stronger hand. 
I asked in vain one sip of wine — 

Unmixed — from Youth's capacious cup; 
Ungiven then, should I repine, 

Who drink the cellared stores of Hope? 

Unenvyingly, today, I look 

On others surfeited with joys, 
With heart a-smile, as one forsook 

Of all — save that which never cloys! 
I see friends lovingly entwine 

Each other's hearts, confidingly; — 
Desire stirs not this heart of mine, — 

God's peace is closer still, to me. 

'Tis not that I have callous grown, 

But only that, — so long denied, — 
With things I ne'er could call my own 

My longings are unoccupied. 
Unparched by Life's fierce fev'rishness; 

Undazed by its delirium; 
My heart regards with restfulness, 

The present; past and the to come. 

67 



Denial's hands have made the room 

For richer blessings else unsent, 
Amid the which, in Autumn bloom, 

The fadeless flower of Content. 
Yet as I watch the falling years — 

Like leaves from unresisting tree — 
I do rejoice, as Heaven nears, 

God holds that — through the night — for me! 



COMPENSATION 

I spent much for earthly pleasure, — 

Quickly perished the things that I bought. 

I dug deeply for earthly treasure, 

And I blackened my hands as I sought. 

Then I turned to a diff'rent direction, 
And my groping hands tore, on a thorn; 

But my cry brought blessed protection, 
And I was led through Darkness to Morn. 

I give, and receive double blessing 
As the priest of my own sacrifice; 

Having naught am all things possessing, 
Since the Lord is my Source of supplies. 

My tears are the rainbow reflecting; 

And loss gains me the lesson it brings; 
If I stumble through others' neglecting, 

By the fall are unfettered my wings! 



68 



LIFE 

The longest story shaped by lips, left something 

still untold; 
A bigger measure than it gives, Life's silent side 

doth hold; 
Disjointed actions men may take, and call it life, 

entire, 
When writing a biography — 'tis all that we 

require, 
For that one does not live who could his inner 

life lay bare, 
Nor ever lived one who for such revelation strange, 

would care! 
We cannot count our own life's pulse, much less 

our brothers, then, 
Where all the blood's strong coursing hides beneath 

the surface vein! 

We cannot see within; man's actions only form a 

wall 
About his inner life; 'tis when his word best covers 

all 
Than silence could, that he allows his trembling 

lips to speak; 
He laughs to hide from us that, 'neath, his heart 

doth break! 
But shall we say, each laugh we hear, some secret 

tear enfolds? 
Nay, this but shows the self-same act such 

diff'rent meaning holds! 
We cannot tell by sighs, if caused by Joy or Pain, 
Nor tell, when lips are singing, Life's meter to the 

strain! 



Let sudden bliss or grief, for one fleet moment, 

throw aside 
The heart's closed door; its first — and strongest 

— impulse is to hide; 
And by the very act or wish of hiding, it reveals 
The fact that something stranger still its opening 

conceals ! 
A tiny grave may measure some life's longest 

hope, 
And the influence vased therein keep his best 

nature up, — 
And Faith may use this little line and measure to 

the skies; — 
Ah, we can measure not by length, but depth, of 

Life's real size! 

Could we put feeling into words, the words must 

needs, would live, 
And the whole world might tremble at the tale 

one life would give! 
We mask and mantle thus, Life's Body, in its 

outer Robe, — 
And if deformed or beautiful man's knowledge 

cannot probe. 
Measure a life by acts! Write a Biography, you 

say,— 
A man could not write his own life as it is, day by 

day, 
While actions lie in Motive's weird embrace and 

Silence holds 
Its hand upon the very Heart of Life, no Tongue 

Life's tale unfolds! 



70 



FUTURITY 

Are we left in Time's mists to grope; — 

To make a path where there is none? 

I'st true that we are led by Hope 

Or urged by ghastly Dread, alone? 

And, as we backward turn our gaze, 

See but one bulk of density; 

Feel but the clammy touch of Death 

Who us pursues? Nor see we trace 

Of any former trodden path; 

Or any future halting place, — 

Is there no Guide for you and me? 

Are all our tracks, at once erased, 
As we thus onward wend our way; 
Or ever yet our feet are placed 
Upon another hidden day? 
Is there naught on this earth to prove 
That there is One who walks beside, 
With Whom to hold communion; 
Whose feet, before, this way have tried 
And unto yonder Heaven, won — 
Is there no certainty of Love? 

Aye, to the tomb and far beyond 

Faith may a blood-marked pathway see! 

Faith never calls without respond 

Into that dim futurity! 

For to her ears a loving Voice 

Cries out: "I am the living Way!" 

She hears despite all Earthly noise, 

And, following, finds endless Day! 



71 



WINTER TWILIGHT 

The bare, brown trees against the setting sun, 
Appear as logs a-quiver in the blaze; 

Like smoke arising thence comes Twilight on, 
Dimming the brightness with an ashen haze. 

Anon, like dying embers, from the which 
There flashes forth a momentary spark, 

The tree-tops glow, and broken shadows pitch 
Noiselessly down — charred splinters of the 
Dark! 

The fire burns low, and ev'ry tint-robed cloud 
Steals through Earth's western door with 
noiseless tread, 

To issue thence bearing a seamless shroud 
In which to wrap the Day, so sudden dead. 

And by-and-by the gray-gloved hand of Night 
Sets yellow tapers 'round Day's dusky bier; 

The Moon approaches — silent, calm and white, 
And mourning winds are wildly sobbing near. 



72 



WORD-MINISTRY 

How oft it is, when people gather 'round 
The board of social intercourse; among 

The many viands which may there abound, 
There is not one to really feed the throng! 

Some hungry life, hoping for e'en a crust 
From — what should be! the blest Com- 
munion Bread, 

Finds naught, in all the subjects there discussed, 
To strengthen him against his gnawing need. 

How oft there might, in kindly words encupped, 
Be the refreshing wine of sympathy 

For some care-fevered life, who long has hoped 
For just this kind of human ministry. 

There should from ev'ry social contact be 

A living influence, to reach away 
To lives beyond our own word -ministry, 

Through those with whom we have conversed 
today. 

Thus the feast's fragments, basketed within 
The lives and memories of those full fed, 

Were borne to those — about the board unseen — 
Who feeding thereupon, are comforted. 

Then let us bring the little we possess; — 
The "seven loaves and the small fishes, two, " 

To Him who will the humble off'ring bless 
To help of all with whom we have to do! 



73 



JUNE 

The smiling Earth close to her throbbing heart 

Doth press us now, — so close, we may inhale 

Her fragrant breath as't fans our cheek, and feel 

The ecstasy of life she doth impart. 

The birds seem to have dipped their tongues anew 

Into the founts of song, and dash the spray 

Therefrom, into the face of Nature, who, 

From her cold tomb, comes clad in garments gay. 

All things are at their best, though early June, 

Sweet Spring, like the departed spirit of 

A loving mother, still doth bend above 

The flow'ry cradle of her babe, whose croon 

Fills all the air with melody so sweet 

That but to live doth seem a joy complete ! 






74 



THE SUNSET 

Red, blue and purple tangled in with gold; 
'Tis thus in colors the Day's life is told, 
As't nears its close, 'ere Twilight's dusky bars 
Are nailed in place by Night's close-driven stars. 

The crimson tells its tale — without my word — 
Of bleeding hearts whose moans the Day has 

heard; 
The blue, of Hope, which from Grief's font, doth 

rise 
In more transplendent life toward the skies. 

The purple, Earth's ambitious ones bespeaks, 
As't proudly wraps from sight the mountain-peaks 
Its tint has softly touched, and yet ascends 
Till all the gathered glory with it blends! 

Then — o'er a grand color-confusion — spreads 
A golden glow which mantles them, and sheds 
(As gauzy garment only hides to show!) 
Their mingled brightness on the Earth below! 



75 



CREEDLESS SERVICE 

'Twixt human hearts with kindred needs 
Erect no barrier of creeds; 
Christ died for all and, like Him, we 
Should measure life with ministry. 

Dare Sect presume to guide the knife 
Upon a consecrated life? 
Shall service rendered only be 
By hands of Partiality? 

Nay, Lord, but let us, as the Christ, 
By priestly Love be sacrificed; 
Nor one ignore, though on his face 
We no familiar feature trace. 

Then shall our words and deeds but vein 
The life-blood of Man's Savior, slain; 
Then of Himself may all partake 
Through lives laid down for Jesus' sake. 



76 



AFTER A SNOWY DAY 

All day the Sun had sheared his cloudy sheep, 

And softly fell the flaky fleece adown; 
Then came the Moon, through ebon bars to peep, 
E'er venturing forth, with golden brush to sweep 
The shadows off Night's blue, star-beaded 
gown. 

Earth, far below, was garmented in white, 
And on her dress the sable shadows fell, 
And so grotesquely streaked its lengths of light, 
A smile spread o'er the solemn face of Night, 
Which, glancing up, Earth saw — and smiled as 
well! 



MEMORIAL DAY 

Well-kept the marriage-vows 'twixt South and 
North, 

And their twin sons, — Peace and Prosperity, 
Now call upon us all to rally forth, 

And hail the wedding anniversary. 

Bring vari-tinted blessings which have grown 
From all the seed War's heavy hand hath sown, 

And hide each hero's grave therewith, and by 

Mem'ry's caress tell him he cannot die, 
Whose priestly wounds with crimson lips have 

said 
The word by which the North and South were 

wed! 



77 



MYSTERY 

Back of the beautiful the beauty hides, 

And held is the known by the knowing; 
And an unmarked pulsebeat of Life divides 
"Twixt Time's pendulum's coming and going. 

Back of all need is the appetite, 

And between it and God's providing 

Is Hunger — able to guide us aright 
Where'er the supply may be hiding! 

Back of the thought is the meaning which molds; 

And 'tween the thought and its voicing, 
Invisible force full expression holds 

As lurks between joy and rejoicing. 

Back of aspiration a shaping hand, 
And back of its guidance the guiding; 

And when the place is reached where we would 
stand, 
Lo, what supports it, 'tis hiding! 

All life is circled by the consciousness 
That, back of things we are seeing, 

Is a power too great for them to express, — 
But what gave that power being? 

Mysterious Life! which all living holds, 

What power thyself is clasping? 
Life answers: 'Tis thus God Himself unfolds, 

For Faith's upreaching and grasping. 



78 



ANOTHER YEAR 

The clock ticks on, yet realize we not 

The meaning of its sound monotonous; 
We rise; we eat; we toil; we rest; — our lot 

Unchanged from day to day. 'Twas ever thus, 
And thus, think we, 'twill ever be, when — lo ! 

We catch a look upon this face of Time 
Which chills our hearts ! and, after that we know 

That 'tis our life-drops, with a mystic chime, 
Falling into silence; and trembling hands 

Upreach to stanch the flow, but all in vain! 
Life steadily doth loose the Time- wrought bands, 
'Till someone says, "The clock has stopped 
again!" 



A bright New Year! unpeopled of event 

As yet, but to its sunlit shores shall come 
Life-laden barques, and voyaging here shall home 

Gigantic deeds; and paths 'till now unbent 
By human tread, shall live Experience 

W T alk up and down, and future sight shall trace 
Its footprints all, besigned in influence, — 

As fern leaves caught of pliant soil envase 
Their beingness in rocks! Time's heavy hand 

Which else destroys, doth this perpetuate. 
O, isle of Opportunity! we stand 

With hopeful hearts at thy Chance-op'ning 
gate! 



79 



SUNRISE 

Silence-shod Dawn, in gauzy garments frocked, 
Came slowly down the ebon stairs of Night, 

And, with her silver key, for Morn unlocked — 
But did not ope — the jeweled gates of light. 

Awhile she lingered, leaning o'er the rails 

Surrounding the smooth plot of fading stars, 

With eyes alight as, peeping through the pales, 
She saw Morn lift the loosened golden bars. 

So sweet her face, beneath its hood of gray, 
While one plucked star lay gleaming on her 
breast, 

As, blushing, she received the King of Day, 
Who on her trembling lips warm kisses pressed. 



80 



SORROW 

A child of no nation, whom all nations claim — 
Though no welcoming smile may we feign, 

For it enters our life-doors, nor tells why it came, 
Though we question again and again. 

A child and so helpless, with tear-wetted eyes, — 
Tears which drop upon all that we hold — 

Yet we nestle it close, and to muffle its cries 
Ever closer our hearts will enfold. 

A Jew is this wand'rer of royal descent, 
In whose features enshadowed, we trace 

The sure likeness to Him, who such bearer hath 
sent, 
That we thus may remember His Face. 



DIVINITY 

The Day is dim with mystery; 

The Night aflame with fev'rish fear, 
To whom denies Divinity 

Doth in these wond'rous robes appear. 

The Earth is but a desert bare, 

Which soil no beauty can produce, 

If one sees not His footprints there, 
Outlined by Things — His living shoes! 

The Ocean is a monster blue, 

Whose unrestraint must needs appall, 
Hearts which own no Creator, Who 

Liveth and reigneth over all! 



82 



MINISTRY 

O trackless miles companionless I tread, 

O'er desert stretches of unbroken gray! 
O altars, where God's priestly will hath led 

My life to sacrifice, day alter day! 
O, bitter cups, my trembling lips must drain 

Which tasteless make all joys from earthly 
well! 
Red fields, where hopes by Duty's hand are slain, 

Or where I fight the vizored hosts of hell ! 



Through weary lands and echoless, shall I 

Be brought to riches, else unfound, beyond? 
And shall coins from that black-mined treasure, 
buy 

Heart-helps, which shall to others' needs, re- 
spond? 
Shall greedy altars ( — like none others built, 

And far from beaten paths of sympathy — ) 
Receive my life-blood — by long weapons spilt — 

To save the best in friend or enemy? 

Do all those battles waged in secrecy, 

Leave fewer foes for other lives to meet? 
And does the cup of gall prepared for me, 

Mean that another's shall contain the sweet? 
Then — welcome lonely path and cruel cross! 

Welcome the cup — I life it willingly! 
Welcome each servant, — Trial, Grief or Loss, 

By which my life is gowned for ministry ! 



THE SILENT SIDE 

The Silent Side of Life ! If it were given voice, 
And hushed were all the tongues of Time's dis- 
tracting Noise, — 
I wonder if the bad were louder than the good, 
Or if God's patience were the better understood? 

If Life's deep wounds might speak, from out their 

crimson lips, 
What stories would we list the melancholy drips? 
What stories would we list the seamed and callous 

scar 
Which, while it shows wounds healed, proclaims 

they never are? 

If heard the many tools, wielded by Circumstance 
In building altars for victims of Ignorance, 
Would we furnish fagots, or would our righteous 

ire 
Make of those ready laid Slander's own fun'ral 

pyre? 

If Joy's sweet songs were heard, might not the 
splash of tears/; 

Be muffled in the music made by passing years? 

If^vocal were the meanings, held by Patience 
mute, 

Might not Praise^with Censure the judgment- 
throne dispute? 

Dumb Honor — dreaded not by Malice, or her 
, arts — 
And white-lipped agonies, shelt'ring in bravest 

hearts, 
Could |tell of^things|for which no language has a 

mold, 
Of clean Christ-tombs, from whence the stones 

are yet unrolled ! 

84 



DECORATION DAY 

Now, God be thanked, the crimson hand of War 
Has robbed our flag of not one shining star, 
Nor of its stripes a solitary bar, 
And clasped the two hands of the Nation are, 
In fellowship which bears no wound — or scar! 

Baptized at the hard font of strife, wherein the 

blood 
Of North and South was mingled Then, the 

Nation Now 
Comes forth acknowledging the blessed brother- 
hood 
Of loyal hearts — each to his own conviction true, 
Whether beneath the Gray they beat, or 'neath 

the Blue! 
No stain is there upon the Flag which o'er us 

waves, 
Although 'tis planted deep in interlocking graves, 
With the same memories for each we now bestow 
The thornless flowers of their Country's gratitude ! 



85 



SUBSTANTIAL FANCIES 

What we imagine is — abideth so. 

(Naught can unmake those things our thoughts 
have made;) 
Denied though we may be to outward show, 

All things hath Fancy unto us conveyed. 
We have the real though we the signs may miss; 

We have the substance which doth cast the 
shade; 
Destruction's hand can never reach to this — 

Nor torch be to its strong foundations laid. 

We have the craving which supplies the food; 

Our happiness is tendered by desire; 
We have a minister to ev'ry mood, 

By having that which doth the mood inspire. 
No thief can rob us of those treasures rare, 

Locked up in Fancy's vault; nor is he poor 
Who may escape at will from outward care 

To gloat upon Imagination's store. 



PERHAPS 

Perhaps in the far-future years, 

When Time is very old and hoar, 
Humanity's long-holden ears 

Shall hear sounds never heard before; 
Perhaps the sound of pealing bells 

As it falls on the pliant air, 
Is stored away in little cells, 

For reproduction otherwhere. 

Perhaps the songs of blithesome birds 

Have been absorbed of nesty trees, 
And burning logs shall yield the words 

And meaning of their melodies; 
All Earth, perhaps, doth God provide 

As place His secrets to conceal, 
'Till what the Past and Present hide, 

He bids the Future to reveal. 



For Nature is a Phonograph, 
Recording ev'ry earthly sound; 

The falling tear; the tempest's laugh; 
The crawl of insects on the ground ! 



87 



ST. PETER'S 

(Rome) 

As a spider doth draw from itself for its home; 

Bearing thence all supplies that it needs; 
So the builder who fashioned St. Peter's in Rome, 

From himself hath wrought rather than creeds ; 
His soul drew on God; as the work on his soul — 

As co-laborers thus are they shown — 
And the human half thought thus Divinely made 
whole, 

Is expressed in this Temple of stone! 



"CHRIST, OR BARABBAS?" 

" Brothers! Whom will ye I shall release unto 
you?" 
Still the same old question of each other, we 
ask. 
Do ye demand release of that robber, Sin, who 
Doth steal Life's best treasures? — foe 'neath a 
friendly mask! 

Or shall I release Him who giveth all good, 
Freely to all men, whatever their need; 

Who once in Earth's judgment hall as Prisoner 
stood, 
That He for His accusers might silently plead? 

The one or the Other I must unto you yield; 

The partaker with you of all pleasureful sin; 
Or the Love which is willing, on Life's battle-field, 

To suffer and die your salvation to win! 

Oh, brothers, I choose to give the Helper to all; 

Him would I release to your needing, alway; 
For whichever you may in your ignorance, call, 

I would yield through my life-doors, the Christ, 
ev'ry day! 



SNOWFLAKES 

The snowflakes Summer's flowers seemed, 
White-gowned, and walking in Death-sleep; 

The winds, roused by their presence, screamed, 
Causing the bravest trees to leap. 

They were, in truth, angels, arrayed 
In glistening robes of frozen light, 

Whose hands, on Nature's eyes were laid 
That so she might receive her sight. 

Her inner sight of holy worth, 

With which God's secret thoughts are seen, 
To which she will give later birth, 

In living words with bodies green. 



90 



THE SPHINX 

*Cannibal of the ages! thou'st devoured 

The body of this life, turning it all 
To stone, for, coff 'ning in thyself the hoard, 

Thou'st shaped thyself with ghoulish carnival! 
Mysterious creature! whose changeless face — 

Enframed in Time — looks out defyingly 
Upon us all, challenging us to trace 

The path unto the Pow'r which fashioned thee! 

Tangible Silence! Life statued in stone! 

Thou great repository of secrets 
Of ev'ry land! is aught to thee unknown? 

Thy cruel unresponsiveness begets 
In ev'ry eager heart, a mad desire 

To gaze into thine eyes, — so deep and cold; 
So dully all-uncaring of the ire 

Their calm hath stirred — until they loose their 
hold 
Upon the all they hide, that we may see 

What lurks beneath their maskless mystery! 

Cold corpse of the strange Spirit of the East; 

Warmly shrouded in desert openness; 
Our hearts unveil themselves to thee, as Priest, 

And thou dost answer by thy wordlessness. 
Confessor! unto whom we humans bow, 

Thou dost, with eloquent, uplifted Face, 
Plead with our God, through Earth's unending 
Now, 

Those gifts for which, in thee, our dumbness 
prays ! 



The word "sphinx" denotes "flesh-eater" 



91 



Thou changeless comforter! our hearts in thee 

Find the companion of their speechlessness; 
Brave bearer of thy being's mystery. 

Thou sharest thus, all human loneliness! 
So many thoughts have entered into thee, 

And thou receivest all but givest none; 
Thus making of thy greed a ministry 

Of understanding help to ev'ry one. 

Thou witness of Earth's uncalendared years! 

Unsignatured message no man hath read! 
Single survivor of long-shattered spheres; 

Type of man's soul, deathless among the dead! 
Thy gaze is e'er on Eternity set — 

Not on fading tints in this fragile globe — 
Waiting, waiting, as Earth waited 'ere yet 

Time had for nude Life wrought the seamless 
robe. 



DEAD HEARTS 

The heart once awake never sleeps again; 

Broken forever its dreamless repose, 
For it consciously walks the paths of Pain 

Bearing Mem'ry's thorn-spiked, scentless 



But when Despair's heavy hand layeth hold 
On the hope still mightier than its woe, 

Then the heart grows numb with a deadly 
cold — 
Unresponsive to touch of friend or foe! 



92 



WAIT 

If we could only hear the promise breathed 
Beneath the tiny leaf, and understand 

Its living words, which come in fragrance wreathe d, 
Would we haste its unfolding with our hand? 

Or, if we saw the thorns upon the stem, 

Which are in the surrounding beauty sheathed, 

Would we thus grasp so eagerly at them? 

The leaf gives promise of the flow'r beneath, 
Whose life shall patiently unfold to bless 

The very atmosphere with ev'ry breath; — 
It waits to live, — shall human greediness 

Profane the message of the spotless flow'r, 

And, hasting on its life, haste also on its death? 

Can we not "watch, with it, one little hour?" 

With ev'ry life akin in sympathy 

Our love would prompt us watch and wait, oh, 
then, 
If there between souls is affinity, 

Like that felt by the Lord for human pain, 
Together we will wait the dark hours through — 

The hours of night and blood-browed agony — 
For coming of the perfect life so true! 

We only prick our fingers when we haste 

To grasp the Thing when but in Promise giv'n, 

And strew the coming time with hours of waste, 
Wherein had blossomed the desired of Heav'n. 

Then let us by experience be taught 

The cup's bright contents not so quick to taste, 

Which is, perhaps, but partly mingled draught. 



93 



Can we not wait to live, or live to wait? 

One lived to wait for the auspicious hour 
Which passed unwaited with, within the Gate 

Which opened through the gloom, to Eden's 
bow'r; — 
Waited to live, the full-grown Life to give 

For and to us, and shall we hesitate 
To live to wait, or, such life, wait to live? 



LOVE 

Love ever wears a crimson dress, — 
For Love is always suffering, — 

Yet she, with Christly selfishness, 
Seeks Joy's life in its offering. 

Her actions are as seed and these 
In other life-soils taking root, 

Bring forth abundant ministries — 
And Love doth feed upon the fruit. 

Love findeth all her gain in loss, 
And saveth only what she gives; 

Her crown is shielded by the cross 
On which she, daily dying, lives. 

One thought Love evermore sustains, — 
Forgetting she has sacrificed, 

She all forgets, but that her pains 
Are caused by mothering the Christ! 



94 



FRIENDS 

Though years may stretch their lives between, 

True friends must surely meet, 
And recognize each other, when 

They face to face shall greet. 
They know by subtle inner sense; 

By touch of soul to soul; 
By Life's unerring evidence — 

Two halves shall make a whole. 

'Tis quite impossible to make 

Acquaintances as friends; 
Such lives but cross because they take 

One road tow'rd diff'rent ends. 
Ah, lives in truth, must fitly meet, 

And journey side by side, 
Each one the other makes complete, 

And naught can them divide. 

New friends an introduction need 

Outside our life's closed door; 
Not so with spirits Love has wed, 

They always know before; 
Their introduction is within, 

And needs no outward sign, 
For hearts their wedded years begin 

When God their lives doth join. 

And friends can never, never part, 

Though miles may lie between, 
They still are close in mind and heart 

As they have ever been, 
For "what they are to us, is there," 

As one has said, "alway." 
If not all time, all life we share 

In an unbroken day. 

95 



We have real kinsfolk, ev'rywhere, 

Upon the unmapped globe, 
Our soul's true life with us they share 

Unmasked of fleshly robe; — 
Some here; some just beyond our sight, 

To wait till they may bid 
Us welcome to that land of light, 

Now by Earth's shadows hid. 



DAYBREAK 

A shining shaft speeds from the bow 

Drawn by the Sun's bright fingers; 
In Night's dark breast 'tis buried low, 

There, quivering, it lingers. 
Then Night doth rise with kingly grace; 

His flashing eyes glance 'round him, 
But — sudden pallor spreads his face, 

And — dying — Dawn hath found him! 

From out the wound, in sparkling streams, 

Flows light of his life holden; 
Morn, rudely wakened from her dreams, 

With falling tresses, golden, 
Hastes to her sire, her ruby lips 

To his cold brow she presses; 
His gray-grown locks her finger-tips — 

Dyed in his blood — caresses! 






96 



REMINDED 

Within an humble country church, 

With pews uncushioned; aisle-ways bare; 
Where spiders found a lofty perch, 

And light shone through with glassy glare; 
There came one day a stranger, who — 

Merely to pass the time away — 
Had sought this place where but a few 

Were gathered on the Holy Day. 

Soon, up the shaky pulpit stair 

Stept a gowned form, with face ashine; 
A Minister of God stood there, 

Breaking the Bread of Life divine. 
The stranger felt a sudden thrill; 

His eyes glanced, askingly, about; 
All seemed familiar, and still 

He ne'er before had seen this spot. 

Familiar was the priest's sweet voice — 

Though as an echo did it sound — 
The faces of the girls and boys 

Suggested what they left unfound. 
Ah, suddenly he knew, and wept, — 

It was so like the place where he, 
A boy, unto the Savior crept, 

Promising deathless loyalty. 

Since then he had his Lord denied, 

He "though all men forsook, would stay!" 
Now, through these things on ev'ry side, 

Is prophecy fulfilled today, 
For by ev'ry little, homely thing 

His soul is stirredfasjwith a shock; — 
A cough; a glance; the^hymns they sing, 

Are but the "crowing of the cock!" 



THE RAINBOW 

Turquoise; topaz; emerald; 

Pearl; rose; opal; amethyst, 
By each other paralleled 

In a Creature of the Mist. 



But what is this wondr'ous Thing, — 

Tinted feather of the light, 
Dropt unheeded from his wing 

By the Sun in sudden flight? 

Is't some dainty flower form 

Blown from garden tempest-ploughed, 
Or his seven-stringed lyre, the Storm — 

His song done — leaned on the cloud? 

Loosened jewels fallen there 

From the Day-king's diadem, — 

Or lace, wrought of light and air, 
'Broidered on his garment's hem? 

Or is it the mystic chain 

Fettering the Sun's fleet foot, 

'Gainst the which he strives in vain 
To escape the Earth's pursuit? 

Nay, 'tis his baptismal gown 

Which, 'ere he his throne shall mount, 
Carefully the Sun lays down 

As he rises from the fount. 



98 



And, for ages Storm and Sun 
Have together fashioned This — 

This unfailing, All-in-One 

Symbol of God's faithfulness! 



THE PURITANS 

Faces of dauntless purity — 

Each feature carved with the heart-tools 

Of strong Experience — Duty 

Hath mothered you! Nor schools — 

Of human fashioning — have taught 

The knowledges, which thus have wrought 

In ev'ry line, the Feeling — fraught 

Expression — live expression, — of 

Those days of long ago, when Love 

(When Need cried out with Justice for the blow) 

With brawny arm, crushed ev'ry foe 

Which menaced rude-built homes, and by 

Its sturdy goodness, thus hast made 

A Fence about the Liberty 

Of this, our Land ! else had she strayed 

To anarchy, and worn the path 

To ruin hard with constant tread 

Now — honored be ye all ! — your Faith 

Is by our Sight interpreted ! 



99 



UNVOICED 

My heart, mute-born, can never voice 

Its mighty love for you; 
But since Earth silent pow'rs employs 

Her greatest works to do, 
May I not on Love's strength depend 
To make you comprehend? 

Soundless the artist's busy brush 

Upon space-easeled skies, 
And noiselessly the flowers rush — 

Besplashed with sun-spilt dyes! 
To drink perfume from earthen jars 
Under the rainbow bars. 

The hidden forces are the strong; 

Their tools give forth no sound 
And Love has never found a tongue 

For feelings most profound, 
Oh, why, since lips cannot express, 
Reject the heart's caress? 

Methinks as objects visible 

But chisel chips from Space, 
So words which would Love's message tell 

Must some of it erase. 
When Love provides the heart's repast, 
'Tis well the lips should fast. 

Then doubt me not, but rather know 
The love that lies unspeeched, 

Must e'er abide in depths below 

The depths e'en thought has reached! 

Hearts have no language all their own, 

Else you the truth had known! 

100 



Sometime a nightless day shall rise, 

Unveiling heart to heart; 
Then scales shall drop from holden eyes, 

And Life-walls fall apart, — 
Then all life's silences shall tell 
My love unspeakable! 



LIFE'S STORY 

Our actions are as pens which dip themselves 
In Time's pale ink, to write Life's story, out; 

And the finished book lies on the shelves 
For the old World to read and talk about. 

'Tis thus Life's tale is written; thus is read, — 
But does the reader know that, underneath 

This story, is one not interpreted 

In any book whose pages end at death? 

And that the meaning 'neath the cov'ring word 
Is lived — though unrecorded — day by day? 

That, where the pages seen are soiled — or blurred ! 
The cause is hidden from all sight, away? 

A broken heart may he 'neath Sorrow's sea, 
And only floating words show the place where 

That soul has sunk beneath its agony, 

And learned their meaning in its own despair! 

So, Life's strange tale cannot in books be told; — 
The heart's warm blood would on the type 
congeal; 

But when the words upon their pages scrolled 
Are dust, we then shall read what they conceal ! 



101 



RUINS 

Oh, mouldy fragments of Time's eaten meal, 
What luxuries once graced this dusty board? 
For scent of wines in empty goblets stored; 
And meaty memories these bones reveal, 
They also, by their nakedness conceal 
Graves which no hand hath dug, wherein is poured 
The famous treasures of the Past's rich hoard; 
Which, masked as friend, Death hither came to 

steal; — 
I would the Present might thy Silence tongue; 
And that each broken stone would tell its tale; 
That Fancy purchase this forsaken site! 
I would that all the curtains Time hath hung, 
Might fall from each supporting rusty nail 
And let the Past and Present here unite ! 



102 



ROME 

Death-mask of earthly greatness ! here we trace, 
'Neath Splendor's withered hand, the perfect Face 
'Tow'rd which the ages turned, questioningly, 
Thy favoring glance, or thy dread frown to see; 
Here Art and Genius came, from near and far, 
Laden with wondrous gifts, and gifts bizarre; 
Here Mem'ry-pampered Hope smiled scornfully 
On each presumptuous Possibility; — 
Now? — Strangers sift the ashes of thy thrones 
For souvenirs, and snatch thy sacred bones 
Therefrom, and, cov'ring them with artificial 

flesh, 
Bid thee assume thy sov'reignty afresh! 
But shall void sockets of doffed diadems 
Be filled anew with Time's just-purchased gems? 
Shall infant hands glove in gigantic deeds agone, — 
Or life succeeded be, by its own skeleton? 
Alas, that History, who wrought thy garments 

rare, 
Should for thy royal corpse no shroud prepare, 
That so the nations might, with reverence, behold 
The grandeur of the dress which hides thy mold! 
Ah, Rome; proud Rome! with rich inheritance 
Of Pow'r — claim seconded by Circumstance — 
We mourn for thee! We mourn thy ruins vast! 
We mourn the broken Promise of thy Past! 

* 4c * * * * # 

But, glorious as thy fame, thy ruins are — 
Fathered by peerless Night, its peerless Star ! 



103 



SILENT MUSIC 

Thou can'st not know that in my heart which 
waits the touch of word; 

The music in Life's silences is left so long un- 
stirred ! 

'Tis there; I feel it oftentimes, when not a friend 
is nigh, 

Thrilling along life's hidden cords, — echo'ng in 
smile or sigh. 

The silent music of each heart doth wait the 
artist's hand; 

A whole life waiteth to respond to such as under- 
stand; 

As in an untouched instrument the world of 
Music lives, 

Or played upon by countless hands retains more 
than it gives; 

So, hidden in the silences of ev'ry human soul, 

Though much is given out in word, doth still 
abide the whole, 

And only he who has the pow'r to read between 
the lines — 

Those spaces 'twixt the motive and the outward- 
given signs — 

Can hear the music of that life a-rythm-tick with 
his own; — 

Though it to others muffled be he hears the un- 
dertone; 

Love sees within the loved one's eyes the meaning 
of the words, 

To silent peals of rapture sweeping o'er Life's 
deepest chords! 



104 



But 'tis the Master's skilful hand, — though now 
by both unseen, 

Which lovingly doth merge the two, without a 
pause between; 

They feel together and their hearts no longer need 
the word, — 

For both the music and the song they have to- 
gether heard! 



105 



TO A BUTTERFLY 

With soft wings closed in the frame of a worm; 
Trailing in dust Heaven's Time cradled germ, 
God's perfect purpose hath measured the term 

Of thy bondage to toil and night; 
Binous creature! chambered in mystic cell 
Thy life's past and future did'st briefly dwell, 
While upon them was wrought the priestly spell, 

Making one their Death-riven light 

And thou — incarnate Immortality! 
Brilliant, moving, tangible Mystery! 
Blessed, ungainsayable Prophecy! — 

Hast doffed the tombing chrysalis, 
And ris'n a color-clothed blossom of air, 
Floating free in the space 'twixt Here and There, 
To, by thy eloquent presence, declare 

A loftier, happier World than this! 

God ordained, nationless preacher of Truth — 

Attired for thy holy office, forsooth, 

In garments which signify endless youth, 

And a more congenial clime — 
Our minds, imprisoned in bodies, here; 
Our spirits, cramped in Earth's limited sphere, 
Hail with great gladness the word thou dost bear, 

Of the Life op'ning out of Time! 






106 



THROUGH THE "TROSSACHS" 

(SCOTLAND) 

Rise early must we for the Tally-ho, 

Whose scarlet-robed driver with crack of whip 
Starts his horses betimes down the valley — 0, 

Rise early, then, for that wonderful trip ! 

Where up and down through the fragrance-filled 
vales, 

Fringed by the waters of laughing blue lochs; 
Where beauty is fastened with flower-nails, 

As scaffolding for the heath-covered rocks; 

"Where twineth the path" to old Loch Katrine, — 
Whose waters are like to a fairy stream; 

Where "Ellen's Isle," in the arms of her matron, 
Seems to sleep and only of Heaven to dream! 

Then off and into another old coach, 

Through places where Hist'rys ink never dried; 
By the way of "Rob Roy's Country," approach 

Where Scotia's brave for liberty died. 

And thus reach the banks of fair Loch Lomond, 
Where waiteth a boat like a dreamland bird; 

Step aboard! and see how its white foam- wand 
Reproduces the Past at Memory's word! 

Old hills, looking like an emerald sea, 

Whose billows are suddenly stricken still, 

Seem to leave us islanded in mystery 

Whose atmosphere sets our spirits athrill! 



107 



War's fadeless records all around, we see, 
And our emotion responsively stirs 

As we read the autobiography 

Of a nation writ in such characters ! 

Land, rising and falling so gracefully, 

Thou'rt but Nature's breathing made visible, 
As her heart pulsates, rythmatically, 
To the music of meanings unspeakable ! 

Oh, wonderful ride, by coach and by boat! 

Oh, visions of unimagined delight! 
Truly, 'twas God's own finger which wrote 

That poem in Nature- words, none may recite! 






108 



GOD'S SERVANTS 

Though sharp and cruel be the raven's beak, 
Yet once 'twas used in service for our God; 

So it may be, in harsh words others speak, 

They bring to us our soul's most-needed food. 

Though black as ebony the raven's wing, 
Blotting the sunlight to the prophet's eye, 

Yet it was this which did so swiftly bring, 
Direct from God, his daily needs' supply! 

And does it sometimes seem monotonous 
Each day some trial new, must bring? 

The rather think, " God's servant cometh thus 
With bread and flesh, for my souls nourishing!" 

'Tis true that disappointments strange may come 
Swooping tow'rd our isolated lives, — 

But oh, 'tis that they may enlarge the room 
For His dear Presence, and the all it gives ! 

Then let us not the message lose because 
In sable robes is clad the messenger; 

Though God (with black-gloved hand), doth bid 
us pause 
To introduce us to the Comforter! 

If sent of God, no creature has the pow'r 
To harm, — e'en though it may be vulturous; 

So, troubles which would, otherwise, devour, 
But minister God's very self to us! 

The ravens plucked not out the prophet's eyes, — 
So trials fierce cannot destroy my faith; 

No God-sent servant my soul terrifies, 

Through them I listen for the words He saith! 
109 



"NOT BREAD ALONE" 

My spirit in Earth's spacious temple is, 

Where, shadow-latticed from the burning sun, 

I sit in company with mysteries 

Which have resided here since Earth begun. 

Their speech no mere mind-linguist understands; 

Their faces all, 'neath down-dropt visors hide, — 
Yet Faith translates, and, with God-guided hands, 

Unmasks meanings by Reason ne'er espied. 

For Feeling is the tongue most eloquent 

Of Silences; — which dumb to Reason, seem! 

And Space is filled with God's sublime intent 
To those who Reason deems but idly dream ! 

As at the Cross all mortals may partake 
Of the one Life, vesseled in many veins — 

So, at Earth's altars, the one Thought He break 
In countless words, our human fife sustains. 

Each blade of grass; each grain of sand, God's 
thought 

Called into life; upholds and doth control; 
'Tis thus in sign-language, that I am taught 

All Nature is one vast Communion Bowl! 



110 



FLOWERS 

The same sweet message hides in ev 'rything : — 
In the heart of the glacier flowers are found, 

Like the Sun's bright rays set to blossoming 
In vases of crystal, on sapphire ground! 

If we heed Spring's call to a warmer clime, 

There, sentinelled by strong, high-antlered 
trees, 

Earth mothers the promise of Winter- time 
And rocks in their cradles flow'r infancies. 

Look up after tempest, and see the bow; 

(God's eyes with our own look on the blest 
sign!) 
'Tis all Heav'n's cloud-flowers set in a row, 

Renewing to us the promise divine! 

So, in Afric's dust hides the diamond bright, — 
Like a petrified tear-drop of the Sun, 

Or a covered fight in the breast of Night — 
'Tis a flower-bouquet, implanted in stone! 

And we hear in Music — whose seven chords 
Behind their bars but imprison its life — 

But flowers made vocal, in tinted words 

Singing 'neath the sound of all earthly strife. 

Thus earth, sky and sea the same lesson teach; 

That the One White Light in All is exprest; 
That God, all divine through Immanuel doth 
reach, 

Revealing One Love, Vari-manifest. 



ill 



'TWIXT DARK AND DAWN 

The stars, like blazing coals 

In the black grate of Night, 
Invite sad, lonely souls 

Unto their warmth and light. 
While gazing on the stars 

Imagination has 
Full play, and nothing mars 

The shapes there pictured, as 
The flame which emanates 

Therefrom, doth seem to frame 
Faces of spirit-mates, 

Forevermore the same, — 
E'en when the star-fire's flash 

Less, and still lesser glows, 
And dies beneath the ash 

Which Dawn upon it throws. 



112 



THE CHRIST-MASS 

The mere glad thought of giving, opes 
The stable for the Savior's birth; 

Who gives, and he who only hopes 

For others' weal, brings Christ to earth. 

Enswathed in ev'ry kindly deed 
The Lord again in flesh appears; 

'Gainst Bethl'liem's door no ehurchly creed, 
With holy hands, forbiddance rears! 

Cradled in ev'ry love-warm gift 

The Babe, Whose coming they portray, 

And all who these receive, but lift 
Him to their hearts and lives, Today ! 

And all who have no thing to give, 
If they but have the giving will, 

May, with those who no thing receive, 
Keep Bethl'hem's angels singing, still! 

Hearts need no outward sign, to show 
Remembrance of God's blessed Son, — 

Who Him receives, or gives, doth know 
The Christ-mass — Love's Communion! 



"THE FULLNESS THEREOF" 

Visible Nature but conceals 

The fullness which itself outlines; 

'Tis to "the meek" the Lord reveals 

Their best possessions, 'neath the signs. 

The wonderful inheritance 

Of meanings, to the which outsides 

Of living — Sight and Circumstance — 
But point, God for man's life provides. 

Thus Earth with its variety 

Of tongues, doth voice a single thought, 
That Life is one; that all we see, 

Is but for it a cradle wrought. 

Reason may come with undimmed lamp, 
And scan Earth's surface characters; 

May wipe away the ages' damp 
Gathered upon its sepulchres, — 

But only to the eye of Faith 
The living Truth is ever shown; 

Faith meets the Risen in ev'ry path — 
Reason stands gazing at the Stone! 



WE THANK THEE, LORD 

For all the blessings we enjoy; 
Deliv'rance, too, from unseen ill; 
For mem'ries sweet, Time cannot cloy; 
For faith, — which claims thy mercy still, 
For present needs and future fates — 
Our nation's heart perpetuates 
Thy praise, oh God our Stay ! 

For that our fadeless flag, unstained, 
Waves welcome to all former foes; 
For swords still sheathed; that, unrestrained 
The priestly sea between us flows, 
Whose ships, like white-winged angels, bear 
To us, and from us everywhere, 
Kind greetings, day by day! 

For generous mines; for home's delights; 
For food and clothing; health and peace, — 
For all things Gratitude indites 
A heart-song which shall never cease! 
But most of all, oh, gracious Lord, 
We thank thee for thy open Word, 
Thy undisputed sway! 



115 



HARMONY 

Thou the pure linguist of Perfection art ! 

In color, thou art Music, stricken mute; 
In sound, art Beauty blessed with tongue and 
heart; — 

The Same, expressed in varying attribute. 

In character; — a healthy body, where 
All virtues are symmetrically joined; 

Each part self -whole essential to declare 
The perfect wisdom of the ruling mind. 

As emanates the rainbow from the sun, 
Burning one light in seven hues ablent, 

So souls who re-present the Christ, show one 
White Life enveined in actions different. 

A perfect Whole doth Harmony assert; 

If one atom thereof distorted be, 
All is destroyed, as surfeit doth pervert 

Live changelessness to dead monotony. 



116 



AT SUNSET 

Night sowed his golden star-seed in the sky, 

And sprinkled them with vapor all about; 
Morn, clad in gorgeous garments, sauntered by 

To see if they had yet begun to sprout; 
Then came the King of Day with stately tread, 

And, with warm fingers, loosed their mystic 
bands ; 
And white-masked tints raised, each, a tiny head, 

And stretched tow'rd him stems, like cloud- 
covered hands; 
Then — sudden bloom! and the star-flowers all, 
Let o'er the earth their broken petals fall! 



THAW 

The busy clouds were bended low 
Above their self-appointed task — 

The making of a robe of snow, 

For which Earth, mutely, seemed to a* 

The sullen Sun refused one strand 
From off his shining spool of gold; 

But back of a gray screen he scanned 
The mantle growing, fold on fold. 

Then, with a burning jealousy, 

Seeing it o'er Earth's shoulders thrown, 
He grasped the garment hastily, 

And raveled all the clouds had sewn ! 



117 



PASSING MOMENTS 

As I list their steady dropping, — 

Never stopping; never stopping — 
Into the caves of Silence so profound; 

How it sets my brain to reeling! — 

Time is slowly, surely stealing 
Into those depths no human thought can sound! 

Thus they're falling, ever falling, 

With a steadiness appalling, — 
Blood-drops from out Time's wounded, pulsing 
breast, — 

Into all the living spaces 

Which Life 'twixt the moments traces, — 
Whose paths our spirit's feet alone have pressed ! 

So I list the clock's sad ticking, 

Dreaming 'tis Life's finger picking 
The lock which holds its intervening door, 

Of the house, where I, imprisoned, 

Long for all my soul hath visioned 
In shadows cast upon Earth's narrow floor! 






118 



MIDSUMMER 

The ocean as Earth's lolling tongue, 
Moistens the lips of either shore, 

Which, parched, and crack'd — as feverstung- 
Mutters the same words, o'er and o'er. 

Above her flow'ry coverlet 

The Sun a tireless vigil keeps, 
Mourning, with deep, dry-eyed regret, 

That, stealthily, Death toward her creeps. 



AT TWILIGHT 

The Day's dying breath dimmed the panes of 
light; 
His cheeks flushed and paled as Death closer 
drew, 
'Till, with a long gasp, in the arms of Night 
He gently expired, and was borne from view. 



119 



KINDNESS 

True kindness sets no price upon itself, 
Nor can it be with earthly coin repaid; 

And whoso barters deeds to heap his pelf 
Must ever be the loser by his trade ! 

Kindness doth meet its need supplyingly; — 
This the relation each to each sustains; 

And he who gives himself in ministry 

Doth fill all earth and Heaven with his gains ! 



CRADLE SONG 

Oh, come, baby mine, thy bed is the bridge 
Stretching over the hours 'tween Night and 
Day; 
Thou'lt find in the midst of thy pilgrimage 

The land where the sleep-children live and 
play! 

Dost hear the clock strike? It is time to start; 

Shut the lip-gates tight, little baby, dear; 
Come, lay thy head close unto mother's heart, 

And thou shalt the fairy-steed's hoof beats 
hear. 

Look, baby eyes, through a dream-shaped door, 
See friendly hands eagerly beck'ning on; — 

Go join in the race, dear, for yonder shore, 
And we'll see who is first to reach the Dawn! 



120 



SINFUL PLEASURES 

The pleasures of this earth 
Can bring no lasting bliss; 

They furnish present mirth 
And, with it, effervesce. 

Though the first taste of sin 
Be to the taster, sweet, 

There lies the dregs within, 
The bitterest regret. 

A snare covered with flow'rs 
Sin places in our path, 

To trap these feet of ours 
And hurl us down to death! 

I hold this as a word 

Of God, in warning sent; — 
Each sin doth sheathe the sword 

For its own punishment. 

The pleasures God doth give, 
Enjoyed, bring no remorse; 

They Earth and Death survive 
And last long as their Source ! 



121 



EVENING 

Loose-cloak'd in cloudlets clasped with stars, 
The Moon Day's hurried flight debars, 

And trips the hasting feet 
Across her own unfastened beams; 
But, with what rude impatience seems, 

Doth Darkness aid retreat! 

Below, the very Silence gasps, 

As Earth Day's ragged garment grasps, 

To hold him longer near; 
But with a wrench which sets him free, 
The now determined Day doth flee, 

And Evening is here! 



Troubles and mists the sun obscure, 
Yet each as foils but serve to show 

In blending-beauties — each mature — 
His Storms and Sun's co- woven bow! 



Back of all good lies better Cause; 

Advance is made by Discontent, 
For Satisfaction bids us pause, 

And Progress sleeps within her tent. 



Though humble gifts our spirits chafe, 
Who would Earth's best bestow, instead,- 

They are the bars which hold Him safe 
Within his homely manger bed! 



122 






UNDER 

'Tis well to learn to read between the lines, 

For there, ofttimes, the meaning true, is hid; 

As in light conversation, we may bid 
Our deep emotions — lest by surface signs 
They show themselves — to hide, as if 'twere shame 

To be possessed of feelings of more worth; 

So, 'neath the mask of an assumed mirth 
The soul hides its face, with meaning aflame. 

A word imperfectly must echo Thought; 

Thought may be traveling with perfect ease 

Beneath the world of words, and one who sees 
The surface calm, sees not what has been wrought 
Of Silence, on the fabric of that brain; 

What rare designs which words cannot disclose ; 

So little all our outward living shows 
Of what our hearts and inner lives contain! 



123 



EARLY SPRING 

Glad Nature, throwing off her cold reserve, 
In confidential mood to us reveals 
Her inmost heart, and all she thinks and feels ! 
"lis sweet her deep expression to observe, 
For all who know her face so pure and fair, 
Must able be to read great meanings there! 



EARLY FALL 

Sweet Summer spent her latest days, while here, 

In making rare designs for Autumn's dress; 
Today, in conscious grief around her bier, 

Doth Autumn moan aloud in dire distress! 
Her chilly fingers with the sunbeams play 

Unconsciously, as they lay in her lap, 
While, ever and anon, the tear-drops stray 

Adown her cheek for the earth to entrap. 



124 



THE "TO COME" 

We cannot abide 
As thus, close to each other's side, 

But this I know, 
If thou, my friend, art first to go, 
All the glad days of the "have been" 
I'll live but to live o'er again! 

We cannot converse, 
As now, for aye; the Now doth nurse 

The great "To be" 
And all it holds for thee and me; 
Oh, let us now, in view of all, 
Speak no word we would then recall! 

For there will come 
A time when smiling lips are dumb, 

Whose, — thine or mine? 
Which heart its lonely lot repine; — 
WTiose eyes no int'rest shall betray, 
Whether the other go, or stay? 

The last fond word 
Shall be — by which? — in anguish heard; 

The clinging clasp, 
'Ere loosed for aye from which one's grasp? 
Ah, which of us "Farewell!" must say, 
From on the Earth-side, some dark day? 

Which shall it be 
To journey on alone? If we 

Could surely know 
Would we still act the same as now? 
Oh, would it any diff'rence make 
To thee, if Death me first should take? 



Well, one by one 
Tired hands must lay life's duties down, 

And feet, all bruised 
With climbing, have their sandals loosed;- 
Yes, one shall go, and one must stay 
'Mid the reminders, day by day ! 

Time flyeth fast, 
Some day will be the very last 

Together spent, 
And then one heart with anguish rent 
Shall look, so hopelessly, through tears 
Upon the coming vacant years! 

And one will trace 
Each line of the familiar face, — 

So cold and still! 
And one must patient wait, until 
Death's hand again, shall lift the bars, 
And we shall meet beyond the stars! 



126 



MOTHER 

"Your Mother's growing old," one said to me, 
As friendlily we journeyed side by side; 

Old! Old? The word hurt me most cruelly; — 
She is no older now, than when I cried 

Out childish griefs upon her patient breast, 

Or, when a woman, deeper things confest! 

Why she was born to me, when I to her 

Was born! With that relationship, the years, 

Nor aught they bring, can ever interfere! 
Old? Yes, but the same age today appears, 

As when I looked the wants I could not speak; 

Received the care I knew not how to seek. 

The Mother-age is that which ages not; 

Nor was she ever younger then, than now; 
Her dear heart occupies the same old spot 
'Round which the years, fast, but untouching, 
flow. 
No, Mother never can more aged be, — 
Timeless as God, my Mother is, to me! 

She is my heart's one earthly home, alway; 

And Love divine the holy Architect, 
Who doth, himself, the sure foundations lay, 

And with his chosen tools, doth it erect; — 
Nor Earth nor Time has power to pull down 
This unseen house which we together own! 



127 



TIME 

With Chaos for cradle and Darkness for dress 

And with Light for thy fostering nurse, 
Thou did'st grow, for awhile, in companionless- 
ness — 

All untouched of man's blessing or curse; 
Then, for thee the Creator appointed a work, 

And as coachman of Life, thee became, 
And, whoever may idle, thou never cans't shirk 

The long service which gave thee thy name! 

Thy name — did I say, ah, by three art thou 
known: — 

As the "Past" e'er to fond Memory, 
And to "Hope" — who is taller than thou hast yet 
grown — 

As fair "Future" thou ever shalt be! 
But to Love — yea, and Love is the wisest of all 

In her choice of a name to endow, 
For, no matter how loudly the others may call, 

Thou wilt answer to nothing but "Now!" 



128 



MAY 19 1913 






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